


Bounce

by dessert_first



Category: due South
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-17
Updated: 2010-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-13 17:49:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dessert_first/pseuds/dessert_first
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray was having a really fantastically good time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bounce

**Author's Note:**

  * For [helens78](https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/gifts).



Ray was having a really fantastically good time, going down on a hot check-bouncer with hips to die for and a great rack, when there was a knock at the door.

"No fucking way," he said into the warm, wet heaven he was pressed up against. He crooked his fingers and Yvette moaned.

The knocking got more insistent.

Who the hell would knock on his door at this hour, anyway? Maybe if they were really, really quiet, the person at the door would go away.

He held still for all of a second, but then Yvette made a soft, deliciously girly little sigh and Ray couldn't help himself—he did that tongue-flutter thing and crooked his fingers again, right up against the sweet spot and Yvette's moan went wildly out of control, spiraling up into a keening wail that practically made the windows rattle, her heels drumming Ray's back as she came.

More knocking.

Seriously, did the world hate him? What had he done? Was it karma?

Yvette let out a long, drawn-out sigh and pushed him away. "Who's at your door?"

"Karma," Ray said glumly. He eeled a little closer, sliding a friendly hand up the inside of her thigh, and she grinned down at him, letting her legs fall open even wider. He licked his lips, tasting her, and set his mouth on the hollow behind her knee, working her with his tongue. Her skin was soft and smelled fantastic, girly and fresh and salty-sweet and _holy fuck_ , Ray was going to _kill_ whomever was still fucking pounding on his door.

"That's some really stubborn karma you've got going there," Yvette made a little moue of distaste, her legs slowly falling shut.

Ray leaped off the bed. "Don't move," he told her urgently. "Don't—just stay there. I'll be right back. Five seconds. I'll just shoot them and come right back, okay?"

He grabbed a sheet and wrapped it around himself haphazardly, stormed over to the door, undid the locks and yanked it open. "What?"

Fraser was standing there, soaked to the skin, the uniform plastered down with water. He held his dripping Stetson in his hands. "I'm sorry to bother you, Ray," he said. "There was an incident with a purse snatcher, a Saint Bernard and a fire hydrant, followed by an unexpected thunderstorm, but that's not important right now. What is important is that I've just got word—"

"Fraser! Get the hell in here!" Ray dragged him in, slammed the door shut and went to get a towel. Several towels. The entire contents of his linen closet. "Don’t move!"

Why did he keep saying that to people?

His bedsheet toga thing—a look Ray was totally rocking, by the way—was threatening to slip, so he threw on a pair of sweatpants he kept in the bathroom. Grabbed the towels and came bustling back with an armload of them, throwing one down on the floor for Fraser to step on. He draped another one across Fraser's shoulders and one over his head. "What the hell are you doing in Chicago, Fraser?" Ray asked, rubbing at Fraser's hair. Fraser allowed it, standing meekly on the rapidly dampening towel on the floor.

"Well," Fraser said, voice partly muffled by the towel, "I heard that—" and there was some towel-obscured mumbling—"was back in town."

"You heard what now?"

Fraser tugged at the towel until Ray surrendered it, and his wet, rumpled head emerged, his eyes framed by the damp clumps of his eyelashes. "Yvette Marchand. The check—"

And that, of course, was when Yvette appeared, working a toga look of her own. She looked really good in blue.

"You've got a Mountie in your living room," she said, leaning against the hall doorway.

"Uh, yeah," Ray said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Yvette, you might recall Benton Fraser, my, uh, my former partner. Fraser, you remember Yvette."

~~~

Ray had been having such a fantastically good time. Yvette had called him up out of the blue, taken him out for dinner at that fancy Cuban place where the staff always comped her the really good stuff, and somehow had talked her way back to his apartment, and onto his sofa, and then into his bed.

Okay, it hadn't really taken that much talking-into.

Sure, she'd ditched him at that couples-club resort in Mexico that one time after he'd busted her for the whole bad check thing. But hey, no one had asked Ray out since the last ice age, and Yvette kind of grew on you. Besides, if she was taking him out, he'd probably at least get a really good meal out of it, and maybe even some sex.

Not that Ray was easy or anything. He was just… not difficult.

He'd confronted her about the whole ditching him in Mexico thing, of course, but she'd managed to gloss over that, and she looked pretty hot in that little red dress. She'd just leaned closer and gazed up at him earnestly. "You know, Ray, of all the guys I've ditched, you were the hardest to walk away from."

Ray smiled at her. That was kind of—he narrowed his eyes. "You say that to all the guys you ditch, don't you?

"Only the ones who catch me," she said cheerfully, and kissed his nose.

She was here _now_ , was the point.

But so was Benton "Killjoy" Fraser, RCMP, who had showered and dried off and was sitting on Ray's couch wearing a pair of Ray's stretched-out sweatpants and an old Chicago PD athletic league sweatshirt. And still managed to look all prim and buttoned-down, sipping tea and trying to avoid ogling Yvette's bare legs.

Yvette sat next to Fraser on the couch, looking neither prim nor buttoned-down in Ray's Bulls t-shirt and a pair of his boxers, her long black hair in a wild tangle. She looked exactly as if she'd just tumbled out of bed mid-sex, and she didn't look that happy about it.

"So," Ray said. "How, uh, how long are you in town for?"

Two pairs of eyes swung in his direction.

"Uh, Fraser."

"Well, Ray, there are some issues at the Consulate I've been asked to address. It seems my replacement could use some assistance learning the finer points of the Consular duties here in Chicago."

"Right," Ray said. "So you came back for the good of Canada, not just to butt in on my personal life."

Fraser stiffened. "That's hardly—"

"Okay, you know what?" Yvette cut in. "We need drinks." She got up and headed for the kitchen, the chili pepper lights casting surreal colors on her skin. As soon as she was behind the counter, she knelt down out of sight and started banging around in Ray's cupboards.

"Fraser," Ray said, pitching his voice low. "I really do not want to think that you are jealous of me for actually trying to have a life here. Every woman on the planet is into you, and this one just happens to be into me, okay?"

"She is a _criminal_ , Ray!" Fraser whispered.

"She passed a couple of bad checks! Bonnie Parker she is not."

"Her crimes are punishable by prison time in the state of Illinois."

"The checks were small potatoes, Frase." Ray rolled his eyes. "At most she woulda got a five hundred dollar fine."

"Which I'm certain she would have paid by check," he snapped.

"Oh, that's cute. That's real cute. This woman likes me, Fraser. Why do you gotta make a big deal about it?"

Fraser's lips pressed together. "She left you in Mexico, Ray."

"You left me in _Canada_!" Ray jabbed two fingers at Fraser's chest. "At least she was up-front about it! Never pretended we were gonna last. But you, with your 'if you'll have me' and your marriage similes and your fucking _adventure_ , you go and get my hopes up first! So screw you, Fraser, if you think that's any better than what she did."

 _"Ray,"_ Fraser sounded agonized. "I never—"

"Found it!" Yvette slipped back into the living room, holding a bottle of vodka in one hand and three shot glasses clustered under her other arm. "You don't have any rum, Ray." She looked disapproving. "For the next time, buy rum." She handed out the glasses and poured, ignoring Fraser's protests. "Drink up, Mountie," she said. "You and I are gonna be buddies by the time the night is out."

Ray could drink to that.

~~~

Fraser looked like he was having a really fantastically good time, going down on Yvette like there was no tomorrow.

It was… weird. It was really fucking weird, but damn, was it hot. Hadn't even taken that much vodka, either.

A couple of sips and Fraser had mellowed a little, softened, and Ray had crowded up against him on the sofa like he couldn't quite help himself, and pulled at the sweatshirt Fraser was wearing, pulled him off the sofa and onto the bed and out of his clothes, all of it soft, easy, almost delicately for fear Ray would spook him off.

Fraser had hesitated for a moment, looked at Yvette and back at Ray with a shadowed gaze, then seemed to gather himself together and reached for Ray, reached for Yvette, filled his hands with both of them with a hard, implacable grip.

Yvette still had the Bulls t-shirt on, and Fraser had only pulled down her boxers far enough down her legs to be able to get at her pussy. They were still tangled around one of her thighs. She was wriggling around, hands reaching up and back to grab fistfuls of her pillow, and she was making those girly, sexy noises that drove Ray crazy. Fraser had shoved his hands under Yvette's ass and was cupping it, holding her up to his mouth, lips and tongue and hands working, and he looked really, really into it—not just the careful concentration of a man who'd had too much to drink, but the fierce focus of the truly dedicated pussy-eater, the single-minded dedication Fraser gave everything he wanted to get right.

Yvette came, making that noise Ray was seriously growing to love, and flopped back onto the pillows, weakly shoving Fraser away. He put his mouth on her hip instead, sucking at the skin. Ray thought that was a pretty spectacular idea, actually, so he went for the other one.

"C'mere, c'mere," Yvette said, breathless, and tugged at Ray's hair, pulling him up to kiss her mouth.

Her lips were soft and full, and when he touched her breasts through the t-shirt she sighed. She was soft and pliant when he pulled at the fabric, shifting up to let him draw it off her body. Fraser eased Ray's boxers off her thigh and pressed them to his face for a moment, eyes closed.

Ray frowned. "I'm right here," he said, hands drifting along Yvette's smooth skin, kneading her breasts, teasing at her nipples. She moaned.

Fraser looked up at him through lowered lashes. "I… yes," he said. "As are we all." He crept up along Yvette's body, trailing a hand over her skin from ankle to ribcage. She writhed into the caress.

"You make a real good buddy, Mountie," she said, eyes half-closed in pleasure.

Ray couldn't help grinning. "Yeah, I guess he does."

A long, slow blink and Fraser hesitated, opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. "As do you, Ray," he finally said.

He looked so beautiful lying there on his side, propped up on one arm, his pale, broad hand on Yvette's smooth skin. After Canada Ray had thought he'd never see him like that again, naked and aroused against clean sheets, and suddenly Ray couldn't take it anymore, this stupid pretending, like he hadn't been quietly drowning for the last six months.

"Lemme fuck you," he whispered. "I wanna fuck you."

Fraser shuddered.

"I don't care why you came back." He reached for Fraser, tangled a hand in his dark hair and tugged him up across Yvette's lush body to meet Ray's kiss. It was harsh and desperate, biting and licking at each other's mouths, and it was so damn good. Ray had thought, with time, that maybe the memory of being with Fraser had been sitting around in his head so long that it was better than the reality. That it had that shiny gleam of nostalgia to it, making it seem hotter and sweeter and more wonderful than it could ever have really been.

But he'd been wrong.

They struggled up to their knees, still kissing, bodies leaning into each other over Yvette. Fraser was moaning into his mouth, urgently clasping his biceps, and they knelt there on the bed, kissing each other like they'd never stopped in the first place, like the long, joyless months of being in Chicago by himself while Fraser made love to the ice fields had never happened.

A soft, small hand was caressing Ray's hip, and when he broke the kiss to gasp for breath he saw that Yvette had a hand on each of them. She trailed one palm up and down Fraser's hip and thigh, the fingers curling up a bit to drag her nails lightly along the pale skin, and Fraser closed his eyes, letting his head fall back. Yvette traced the same path on Ray's body, up and down and curve and scratch, and it was making Ray's nerve endings tingle.

He reached down to put his fingers in her mouth and Yvette wet them down, sucking them with gusto. He reached around Fraser's body to dip down between his cheeks, gently rubbing his slick fingers against Fraser's opening. Fraser made a high, wild noise in the back of his throat and pushed back against Ray's hand.

Ray worked a finger in slowly, and Fraser buried his face in Ray's bare shoulder, panting.

Yvette slipped out from between them, scrambled to the side of the bed and and yanked open Ray's nightstand drawer, rooting around until she came up with a bottle of lube and some condoms. "Jackpot!" she grinned, and popped the cap open. She pressed up against Fraser's back and nipped at his shoulder. Reaching over, she smeared a generous amount of lube onto Ray's fingers and took some for herself. Her hand brushed against Ray's as they both played with Fraser's ass, teasing him, stretching him, getting him ready.

When Fraser's panting had trailed off into helpless moans, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, they backed off and guided him onto his hands and knees. Yvette stroked Fraser's back soothingly, gentling him, then slipped underneath his body to take his swollen cock into her mouth. Fraser choked off a harsh cry and Ray rolled a condom onto his own dick and lined up at Fraser's entrance, pushing slowly into the tight, hot grip of Fraser's body.

He set up a slow, steady rhythm, letting them all get used to this, Ray fucking Fraser into Yvette's warm mouth, hands everywhere, grip slipping on sweaty skin. He fucked in harder, experimentally, shifted a little and it was like something snapped, one last little bit falling into place and he was right back where he'd been, where he'd loved to be, deep inside Fraser, so close he didn't know where to draw the lines between them, and fuck the lines anyway, fuck them, because Fraser was making that lost wild noise again, like a wounded animal, and clutching the sheets and fucking back against Ray and forward into Yvette, shoving his entire body back with his strong arms, shoulders working, single-minded and gorgeous, so gorgeous just like this.

Yvette's hand was working furiously between her legs, her cries muffled by Fraser's cock, and Ray was hanging on as best he could, biting his lip in concentration, and for all the times he'd dreamed of having Fraser in his bed, for all the uncertainty that he'd ever have him again, he should really make this last as long as possible, holding on with his fingernails as he dangled over the cliff into orgasm.

He leaned forward, body curving over Fraser's, stilling him, holding him down, and sunk his teeth into Fraser's shoulder, wanting to eat him up, swallow him down, keep him from ever leaving Ray. He barely heard Fraser cry out but he felt his body shake as orgasm hit him, emptying himself into Yvette's mouth, sobbing with it.

Yvette moved away and Fraser stayed there, trembling, loose and open as Ray fucked into his body a few more times, sharp and sweet the way he liked it, the way they both liked it, and Fraser moaned gratefully as Ray came, all of him letting go, pouring himself into Fraser the way he'd wanted to since the day he left Canada.

He pulled out of Fraser's body, mindful of the condom, pulled it off and chucked it in the nearby wastebasket, collapsing back onto the bed to lie spent, half over Fraser's face-down sprawl, half across Yvette's starfished limbs.

"Damn. Why'd we ever stop doing that?" Ray asked, half joking.

"I don't know," Fraser said, his low, broken voice a counterpoint to Yvette's satisfied "Beats me!"

Fraser stiffened.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," Yvette said, apparently feeling the room's temperature drop down to tundra levels. "Though that was one for the Penthouse forums, huh?" She sighed, and Ray could hear the lazy smile in her voice. "You just might be the best buddy ever, Mountie."

Yvette was great in bed, Ray remembered now, but not really that skilled at afterglow.

~~~

Ray didn't have much in the way of breakfast, but coffee he could handle.

Yvette sat on the kitchen bar-stool, hands wrapped around her mug, happily breathing in the coffee-scented steam it gave off. She'd never bothered getting dressed again last night, but this morning she'd thrown on Ray's mint green polo shirt and a fresh pair of boxer shorts, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail with one of the ties Ray kept for court dates and funerals.

Fraser nibbled on a piece of toast, perched on the other bar-stool, wearing one of Ray's old boxing t-shirts stretched tight over his chest and another pair of his sweatpants.

Ray was going to have to do laundry soon, at this rate.

"If you're going to entertain, Ray," Yvette remarked, "you should really consider stocking up on a few more kitchen staples."

"Thank you, Miss Manners," Ray muttered, checking the expiration date on the lone carton of milk in his fridge.

"And you're running low on lube," she said helpfully, swinging her legs as she took another sip of coffee.

Ray tossed the milk and sighed.

"So listen," she said, sliding off the stool. "I can tell you guys have things to talk about, and I'm about due for a shower. Got a date later on today with a guy I ditched in Costa Rica." She walked up to Ray and stood up on her tiptoes to give him a brief, coffee-scented kiss. "Buddy," she winked at Fraser as she backed away. "You enjoy that toast now."

She walked down the hall with the satisfied sway of a well-laid woman, and shortly afterwards Ray heard the water come on in the shower.

"So we gonna talk about this?" he asked Fraser.

"I should thank you and Ms. Marchand for offering me your hospitality," Fraser said politely.

"Yeah, and I should thank you for offering me your ass," Ray frowned. "Can we not do the whole polite thing, Frase?"

"You were very kind to let me in," Fraser soldiered on, "Considering the sudden and apparently ill-timed nature of my arrival."

"The ill-timed—look, Fraser, you may be a lot of things, but your arrival at Casa Kowalski is always gonna be welcome, okay? I do not care what the timing is, because in case you have not noticed, I am in love with you. I would cancel _dialysis_ to hang out with you, any day of the week, no questions asked."

Fraser just looked at him for a long moment, wide-eyed and... hopeful? "I hope that's not necessary," he finally said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"The canceling, or the dialysis?"

Fraser blinked. "Well, neither."

"There's a way around that, you know," Ray said, nervously. "If you wanted to. You could just… stay here. With me."

"I hardly think that would sort out any kidney problems that might arise—"

"Fraser! Quit jerking me around, willya? I am asking you something important here."

Yvette breezed by, long wet hair dripping onto Ray's wood floor, last night's strappy heels and red dress back on, little gold purse in hand.

"Fellas, it's been great. I don’t know when I've had a better time with law enforcement. Call you up next time I'm in town!" She caught Fraser's eye, then grinned. "Well, maybe I'll write first. You know, buddy, some people are the kind that stick around, and others just kind of… bounce. It's apples and oranges, really."

She reached up to kiss Fraser on the cheek, then Ray.

"See ya, Yvy," Ray said.

"Good luck, Kowalski," Yvette winked, and walked out.

Ray and Fraser stood there, staring at each other for a long moment.

"So, I said I loved you back there."

"Yes."

"And since you didn't run screaming off into the tundra again, can I take it you might also—"

"Yes, Ray. Very much so."

"Oh, well, good. Greatness. So, uh, you wanna—"

"Yes," Fraser said urgently.

"Okay, yeah," Ray said, and hustled him off to the bedroom. He stopped at the doorway, fisting a hand in the collar of Fraser's—Ray's shirt that Fraser was wearing. "Just to be clear, you're not gonna bounce on me again, are you?"

"I think," Fraser said, smiling slowly. "I think I'm rather more inclined to stick, with you."

"Okay, then," Ray said. "Okay. So we can—whoa!"

And that was pretty much the end of the conversation, what with the six foot Mountie pressing Ray down onto the rumpled bed, but he was okay with that, really. He figured he'd be okay with that for a good long time.


End file.
